


On Babies and Bumblings

by avatar_dragon_rider



Series: in your arms (i see a future) [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: BABIES MAKE EVERYTHING BETTER, Fluff, Gen, How Do I Tag, I WILL BE SCREAMING ABOUT THIS UNTIL THE END OF TIME, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Angst, M/M, Newt is adorable, No words, Original Character(s), SO THIS IS CANON IN TALK ME HOME NOW, Seriously guys, also it contains spoilers for a couple chapters of her fic, bia.exe has stopped working, cannot believe there's a tag for joe, dont @ me, how do brain, inspired by bia's gap fic, it's light, it's morbidly obese, newt is a MOM fight me, newt is the official scorch babysitter, newt with a baby is everything the fandom needs, no brain, none of these background ocs are mine i just borrowed them from bia, only newt, seriously go read her fic this will not make a speck of sense otherwise, the newtmas is extremely subtle so it lines up with bia's timeline, thomas does not children very well, thomas is confused in general, thomas is confused on how newt is so good with kids, thomas needs to exercise his squishy thinking blob, thomas.exe has ceased to fucking function, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 02:58:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14203551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatar_dragon_rider/pseuds/avatar_dragon_rider
Summary: Or: Thomas, please exercise the squishy thinking blob---Newt’s gaze fell to the baby, his expression softening into a tiny smile. There was a certain light in those dark eyes as he stood there, swaying back and forth, looking at the little human in his arms. Thomas couldn’t remember ever seeing that light before, but somehow he knew it belonged there. He never wanted to see Newt’s eyes hold anything but that light. It looked so soft, so right, and Thomas never wanted to let it go.Alternately: Newt holds a baby and Thomas cannot function





	On Babies and Bumblings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [comebacknow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comebacknow/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Talk Me Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874430) by [comebacknow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comebacknow/pseuds/comebacknow). 



> This was inspired by a scene in Bia's fic where Newt holds baby Ian, and we all started talking about it in the discord and...this happened. This is literally fanfic of a fanfic because I'm utter trash for TMH and I had an image in my head of Newt helping Thomas plan while effortlessly holding Ian and...yeah. Have some Newtmas baby cuteness because I have literally zero control

It was the third stop today, and Thomas was getting antsy.

Granted, the first two stops had been because they had to hide from Bergs flying overhead―likely WCKD looking for more innocent kids to turn into blood bags―but it was still three stops too many. They had fuel, they had food and relatively fresh water, they didn’t have to stop so much. But some genius decided humans needed bathroom breaks, so, stop number three.

Thomas spread the map out on the hood of Jorge’s truck, balancing a few large rocks on the corners to keep it from blowing away in the warm, sandy breeze. He traced the path they’d already covered with his finger, sticking the tip of his tongue out and biting on it. A habit he’d unconsciously picked up from Newt. They had already wasted enough time with the failed mission to rescue Minho and the other immunes, and the amount of time they’d spent in the last town gathering supplies? Unacceptable. They needed to _move,_ and soon. Minho’s life could depend on it. Along with Aris’s, and Sonya’s, and all the other kids WCKD had stolen. They were counting on them. On _him._ He couldn’t fail them.

Frustrated, needing a short reprieve from the map, he glanced around at their small camp. Half the convoy was asleep; some in the trucks, some curled on blankets in the soft sand. Josh had somehow managed to wriggle his way underneath Joe’s truck to lie in the sand but avoid the sun. Jorge and Brenda were teaching Matt and Frypan how to play a card game while munching on some baby carrots. Frypan was evidently losing and Matt kept trying to peek at Brenda’s cards. Vince was wandering around, checking on the trucks and making sure the engines were clear of sand. This was his second time checking Joe’s truck, moving as quietly as he could to avoid waking the teenager napping underneath it. Something to keep his mind occupied, probably. Like Thomas with his maps.

“Thomas.”

Thomas nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice. He’d been so distracted with tracing the map and then watching everyone else that he hadn’t heard Newt walk up behind him.

“Jesus, Newt,” Thomas spoke through an exhale as he turned around. “Don’t snea―” He abruptly stopped talking as soon as his gaze hit Newt. It took way too long for his brain to process exactly why Newt was holding that bundle of blankets so gently. He had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating from lack of sleep. Nope, this was real, this was very much real, and for some reason it was _so much cuter_ than it should have been.

The bundle of blankets was Ian.

Newt was holding a baby.

_Why is this so cute?_

Thomas looked back at where Ian’s parents slept in the sand. Fran was curled against Joe’s good side, her head pillowed on his chest, his arm draped over her back. How had he missed the lack of a baby between them? His eyes found their way back to Newt and his eyebrows went up. Since when did Fran trust Newt enough to let him watch over her son while she slept? Thomas had never seen her let anyone besides Joe and Manny hold him. When did this happen? Why was Newt holding a baby?

He realized about five seconds too late that Newt was trying to say something. He shook his head a bit to try and clear it before speaking. “What?”

Newt huffed a laugh, the corner of his mouth turning up in an amused smirk. “You alright? You’re spacing out on me.” 

Thomas cleared his throat and rubbed at his eyes. When was the last time he’d gotten more than a couple hours of sleep? “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine. Just tired.”

“You know you’re allowed to sleep, right?” Newt shifted his hold on Ian, switching the position of his arms so the child was nestled against his chest, supported by his left arm. Thomas worried for a moment that the movement might wake the baby, but Ian didn’t make a single sound.

“I’m aware of that,” Thomas answered, looking back at the map. “I have more important―”

“Yeah, yeah, we need a new plan, gotta keep moving, rescue Minho, I’ve heard it all.” Thomas didn’t see it, but he could feel Newt rolling his eyes from three feet away. There was the sound of footsteps, and then Newt’s shoulder was brushing against Thomas’s. “So, where are we now?”

Thomas, thankful for the distraction from the for-some-reason adorableness that was Newt holding a baby, pointed to a specific spot on the map. “About here. We’re maybe seventy miles from another town. With the trucks stocked on fuel, we should be able to get there before night falls in a few hours.”

“I don’t much like the idea of stopping in a strange town at night.” Newt shifted beside him, and Thomas looked up. Newt’s eyes were on the map, his mouth set firmly in that resting frown he always had. “There could be Cranks hiding out there, and we have too much that we can lose if we’re overpowered.” He adjusted his hold on Ian again so he could use his right hand to point at the map. “If we go this way…”

Thomas completely tuned out what Newt was saying. He was too focused on how the absolute heck Newt was able to hold Ian in _one goddamn arm_ without even thinking about it. Thomas would never have trusted himself with a small child like that. He would be too scared of dropping it. But Newt did it so naturally, like he’d been caring for babies his entire life, and Thomas was floored, to say the least. Here was a boy with no memories, who spent the last three years of his life in a maze, surrounded by dozens of other boys with no babies in sight; the closest they’d had were baby animals, and those were substantially different than baby humans. And he stood there, holding an infant in one arm without so much as a nervous expression.

Not to mention the fact that the whole thing was ridiculously cute and Thomas could not for the _life_ of him fathom why. Newt was his best friend. His anchor, his voice of reason. Newt had been there ever since Thomas’s first night in the Glade. Right there by his side, following him unwaveringly and calling him out when he was about to do something stupid (which…happened a lot, Thomas could admit that much to himself). He couldn’t imagine life without him. He didn’t want to imagine a future without Newt in it. If there was anyone who deserved to reach paradise, it was the tall, lanky blond standing next to him.

So _why_ was Thomas out of the blue finding him _cute?_

Suddenly Newt was shoving his shoulder. “Thomas!”

Once again, Thomas shook his head, bringing himself back down to Earth. “Yeah? Yeah, sorry. Spaced out. Again.”

Newt quirked an eyebrow, and Thomas was reminded for a brief moment of Gally. “You sure you don’t want to sleep, mate? You look ready to fall over.”

Thomas scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yes, Newt, I’m sure. I can sleep in the trucks when we get moving again.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Newt swayed on the spot, and for a moment Thomas thought he was going to collapse before realizing he wasn’t swaying from exhaustion. He was rocking the baby.

Of course he was.

“You know, you’re really good with him,” Thomas commented.

“Hm?”

“Ian.” Thomas nodded at the bundle of blankets snuggled against Newt’s chest.

“Oh. Yeah.” Newt’s gaze fell to the baby, his expression softening into a tiny smile. There was a certain light in those dark eyes as he stood there, swaying back and forth, looking at the little human in his arms. Thomas couldn’t remember ever seeing that light before, but somehow he knew it belonged there. He never wanted to see Newt’s eyes hold anything but that light. It looked so soft, so _right,_ and Thomas never wanted to let it go. 

Some part of his brain told him he was staring, smiling like a goddamned idiot, probably looking like a fool in love, but he didn’t care. Very few good things had happened since Thomas had woken up in that box in the Glade, and this was one of them. Thomas was going to cherish it.

Newt looked up at him then. “What?”

Thomas shook his head, still feeling his cheeks pulled into an easy smile. “Nothing.”

“Come on, Tommy. I can see the wheels spinnin’. Out with it.”

Thomas just shrugged. “I was just thinking, how did you get Fran to trust you with her kid? She seems really protective of him.”

Newt’s smile faded a little, the light leaving his eyes. Thomas immediately regretted opening his mouth. “She is. I dunno how I did it, really. I just sat there and talked with her for a bit, and she let me hold him. Told me the story behind his name. You were too bloody lost in your own head to notice.” The teasing smirk was there, but there Newt’s tone revealed he was more annoyed than he was letting on. Par for the course.

Before Thomas could defend himself, Vince walked up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Trucks are all good. You boys working on the route?”

Newt nodded, carefully moving Ian to his other arm. The baby made a soft grunt of protest, but fell silent again as soon as he was settled. “I suggested we go around the large, potentially Crank-filled town and follow the main road here,” He traced a finger along the map, his arm tightening just a bit on Ian to keep him from sliding out of his grip, “but I doubt Thomas heard a single word I said. Too lost in his own head.”

There it was again. _Lost in his own head._ Evidently Thomas needed to work on being more observant.

“Shut up, Newt.” Thomas hoped his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. Maybe they would just pass it off as sunburn.

Vince chuckled as he leaned over the map, his eyes following the route Newt had laid out with his finger a moment earlier. “It’s a good plan. I’ll run it by Joe and Jorge later, see what they think. We’re pretty well-stocked on supplies now, and the trucks have plenty of fuel. Stopping in the town might not be as necessary as we think. Still, we can never have too much food and water. Wouldn’t hurt to pick up some almond oil, either. Couldn’t find any in the last town, and I still haven’t heard the end of it from Frypan.”

Thomas nodded. “I agree. Although, taking the road is a bit of a longer route. Safer, I admit, but it takes us several hours out of our way. We can’t afford to waste any more time, especially since we now have no leads on where they’re keeping Minho and the others.”

“I know, Thomas,” Vince said through a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked like he really wanted to take a walk around the trucks again. “Believe me, I know. But would you rather play it safe and fall behind, or take a shortcut and potentially risk everyone’s lives?”

Thomas didn’t answer. He knew Vince wouldn’t like the one he chose.

Newt spoke up instead. “We could compromise. Send one truck in to scout the town when get close, keep the others within radio distance, and signal when it’s safe.”

“We need the radios for that.”

“Joe’s almost got those working,” Thomas interjected. “Once he gets them up and running, we can test how far the signal carries. If it works well enough, we can follow Newt’s suggestion. We keep everyone hidden and send one truck in to survey and report back. This can work.” He cast a thankful look at Newt, who nodded back at him. He didn’t miss how Newt had gone against his own idea to try and find common ground with what Thomas wanted to do. Maybe it was simply because Vince was there, and Newt had a habit of playing mediator for them. Ever the second-in-command. Regardless, Thomas was grateful Newt didn’t just shoot his plan down immediately and push for his own. That’s not how Newt is anyway. He’s patient, and kind, and listens to what others have to say before making a decision.

He’s a far better leader than Thomas could ever be.

More than once, Thomas has considered handing the mission over to Newt, letting him carry the team and lead them through the Scorch. God knows he’d do a much better job of things. But every time he decided to approach Newt about it, something held him back. A certainty that asking Newt to take over was the wrong decision. Newt was a leader, yes, but only when he had to be. He was clearly more suited to following and supporting, offering his opinions and fearlessly shutting down the ideas he felt were too insane to consider. At this point, Thomas has long since lost count of how many times Newt has called him out on his bullshit and probably saved their lives without even realizing it. Thomas was positive that Newt would follow him anywhere.

He wouldn’t want it any other way.

Thomas’s thoughts were interrupted by a tiny whine. His gaze was drawn down to Ian, starting to squirm in Newt’s arms. Without even looking at the baby, Newt adjusted him so he was facing up, over his shoulder. Newt patted Ian’s back, adding a light bounce to his swaying motion. Thomas again wondered how Newt was such a natural at this when any memories of childcare were supposedly wiped from his mind. Thomas himself had no experience with babies he could remember. And yet here Newt stood, calming a fussy baby without even pausing his discussion with Vince. A discussion, Thomas realizes, that had been going on while Thomas was thinking.

He _really_ needed to be more observant.

“I’m going to do a quick check of our supplies,” said Vince. “Make sure those loons haven’t finished off all our baby carrots” He jerked his head in the direction of the card players. Frypan was angrily throwing his cards down while Brenda had a hand over her mouth to try and quiet her giggles.

Newt nodded as Vince walked off, then turned his full attention to Ian. The baby was about two steps from full-on crying, whining and whimpering as he squirmed in Newt’s arms. Thomas glanced back at where Fran slept next to Joe, wondering if he should wake her. Newt seemed to have this under control, making soft shushing sounds as he bounced back and forth, but Thomas still worried. What if Ian was hungry? Newt wasn’t exactly equipped to feed him, and the child was only about five months old. Thomas had limited memories of babies, but he was fairly sure that at that age, he wasn’t eating much solid food, if any at all.

“I think he might need a fresh diaper,” Newt said, pulling Thomas’s attention back to him. Newt was already walking alongside the truck, his limp a little heavier from the rocking and bouncing he’d been doing, and opening the back passenger-side door to find Fran’s bag.

“You want me to wake Fran?” Thomas asked. He folded up the map as he spoke, tucking it back into his jacket pocket. “Can you even change a diaper?”

Newt shrugged, shouldering the bag and closing the door quietly; Harriet was asleep in the backseat. “Can’t be too hard. It’s not rocket science, Tommy. Just gotta copy how Fran did it.” He walked to the back of the truck and put the tailgate down, setting the bag down in the bed of the truck. He looked up at Thomas, his eyebrow quirked. “You gonna help?”

Thomas blinked. “What?”

Newt laid Ian down, separating one of the blankets from the bundle and holding it out to Thomas. His other hand hovered over Ian’s face to protect his eyes from the harsh sun. “I need you to hold this up, keep the sand away from him and the sun out of his eyes.”

“Oh. Yeah, I can manage that.” Thomas nodded as he joined Newt at the back of the truck, taking the blanket and holding it up over Ian, making sure it was angled to block the wind. Tiny particles of sand hit the blanket, but none touched the baby.

Newt pulled his sleeves up to his elbows so they weren’t in his way, then unwrapped the wiggling baby burrito. It was the first time Thomas had ever seen Ian outside of his blankets. He was on the smaller side, probably a bit undernourished, but he appeared to be healthy. He made some noises of protest as Newt removed him from his blanket nest and started fiddling with the strips of cloth that functioned as a diaper. Thomas’s nose twitched as the smell reached him. Yep, kid definitely needed a new diaper.

The boy worked surprisingly fast for someone who didn’t entirely know what he was doing. He didn’t remove the diaper yet, apparently just trying to figure out how it was made so he could replicate it with the fresh one. Once he knew how to copy Fran’s diaper job, he draped Ian’s blanket over him and dug around in the bag for the supplies. Clean cloth, medical tape to hold the strips together, a nearly-empty container of baby powder, and some wipes. Newt lined up all of his supplies in the order he would need them, then returned to Ian, who was now quite grumpy that Newt was taking so long. He squirmed all over the place, kicking his little legs and whining.

Newt removed Ian’s blanket again and got to work. After placing one of the larger strips of cloth beneath Ian, he ripped the medical tape that held the diaper together and lifted Ian’s bottom to slide the diaper off. He dropped it in the sand to deal with later, then grabbed one of the wipes to clean the baby’s bottom. Thomas turned his attention to Newt’s face, and couldn’t help but crack a smile at Newt’s look of concentration. His brow was slightly furrowed, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. Again, the word _cute_ popped into Thomas’s head. Again, he could not fathom why.

Again, he was struck with the realization that he needed to be more observant.

Thomas jerked to the side as he was suddenly hit with a stream of pee. Newt, obviously anticipating this, had already positioned himself to the side, so he was clear of the stream. Thomas had not been so lucky, and now sported a line of pee across his shirt. Newt erupted in a giggling fit, his hands pulled to his chest while he waited for Ian to finish. 

“Sorry, Tommy,” Newt said through his giggles. Cute. _Stop._ “Should have warned you about that. Baby boys tend to spray.”

“Yeah,” Thomas shot a glare in Newt’s direction, though there was no true anger behind it. “That would have been nice to know.”

Newt giggled harder, resuming his cleaning once Ian was done peeing. Thomas simply rolled his eyes.

Once Ian was cleaned and powdered, Newt set to work on putting the fresh diaper together. It only took him a couple of minutes to figure it out. The thing was essentially a bunch of cloth strips fastened around Ian with medical tape. That was the tricky part: making sure the tape was tight enough to keep the diaper from slipping off but loose enough that Ian was comfortable. Newt was clever in the way he figured this out; he flipped the tape over so the sticky part was facing outward, and wrapped it around the top of the diaper a few times until he was happy with the tightness. Then he flipped the tape over and carefully secured the diaper around Ian’s bottom.

“There we are, all better now.” Newt smiled, wrapping the still-whimpering Ian back up in his blanket and lifting him into his arms. 

Thomas shook the sand off the blanket he’d been using to shield Ian and handed it to Newt. Newt took it with a nod of thanks and wrapped that around Ian as well, making sure to keep his head covered.

“Thanks for helping, Tommy,” Newt said, eyeing the pee stain on Thomas’s shirt. “Sorry for…that.”

Thomas shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I can wash it at our next pit stop.”

Newt made a face, resuming his bouncy swaying to try and soothe Ian. “Gross. At least it doesn’t smell too bad.”

 _“Too_ bad?”

“Oh, sod off.” Newt jumped up onto the tailgate, using his free hand as a boost. Likely giving his leg a break from the swaying.

Thomas jumped up next to him, watching him as he rocked side to side, making soft shushing sounds to try and get Ian calmed down again. Ian was absolutely not having it, clearly still unhappy about getting unwrapped from his blanket burrito earlier.

“You, uh, sure you don’t want me to get Fran?” Thomas asked.

Newt shook his head, but other than that, he gave Thomas no other response. He was zeroed in on Ian, fully and completely absorbed in getting the baby to sleep.

Then he did something Thomas didn’t expect. Newt started singing to the baby. His voice was soft and smooth, a little off-key, but it seemed to work for Ian. Slowly, the baby started responding to Newt’s lullaby; his weak cries quieted, he stopped squirming, he stared up at Newt with large, innocent eyes. Eyes that reminded Thomas of Chuck. He clutched the small figurine in his pocket.

Of all the things he’d heard come out of Newt’s mouth, from Glader slang to swears to words of encouragement, he’d never once heard him sing. Thomas was baffled, but nonetheless impressed. Newt was acting on instinct, some deeply buried, long-forgotten instinct that the Swipe had failed to take from him. Thomas wondered where it came from. Perhaps Newt had had a younger sibling prior to getting taken by WCKD? How much younger had they been? Had Newt been their primary caretaker, or is this something he vaguely remembers his parents doing? Thomas suddenly wondered if Newt and his sibling had been orphaned. His heart hurt.

Newt smiled at Ian as he sang to him, the light from before back in his eyes. Thomas felt a smile spreading across his own lips at the sight. He hoped Newt made it to the safe haven, wherever it was, whenever they got there. He hoped Newt had a bright, happy future ahead of him, a future that included people he loved and lots of kids to care for. Newt would be a fantastic father once day, if given the chance. Thomas hoped against all hope that he was given that chance. That they all would be. Even though Thomas doubted he’d be as good with kids as Newt. He’d probably talk too much or say the wrong things or make the kid cry by accident. He could already hear Minho laughing at him, and chuckled at the thought.

Newt looked up, stopping his song. His cheeks immediately started to redden; he must have thought Thomas was laughing at him. Thomas shook his head and nudged Newt’s shoulder with the back of his hand. _Good job._ Over the course of their journey, Newt and Thomas had been developing their own little form of sign language. It wasn’t intentional, not exactly, it just sort of happened, but they didn’t try to stop it. They enjoyed it, this kind of wordless communication. It was something all their own, something they didn’t have to share with anyone.

“I’m officially appointing you babysitter when all this is over,” Thomas said, still smiling.

Newt returned the smile. “Wouldn’t Minho get a kick out of that?” He moved Ian to his other arm so he could clap Thomas on the shoulder. “We gotta think up something for you, now. Maybe…slave driver.”

Thomas sighed, looking at the sky as if it held the answers to life. “Why do I even bother…”

Newt snickered, carefully stepping down from the truck bed; his long legs made it look like he’d never left the ground to begin with. “Looks like people are starting to wake up. I should go return the kiddo to his mum.” 

He faced Ian over his shoulder, and the baby met Thomas’s eyes. Thomas leaned back a bit, not really sure how to approach this, when Ian broke into a smile. Thomas froze. This…this was special. He wanted to live in this moment forever, this small, precious moment with a baby smiling at him for no reason. 

Ian’s smile was mirrored by Newt’s, thrown over his shoulder at Thomas as he started walking toward where Fran and Joe were getting woken up by Manny. Thomas jumped down from the truck and breathed a contented sigh. Those two smiles made Thomas feel something. Something he couldn’t remember ever feeling, something he wanted to hold onto until the end of time.

It was a wave of reassurance.

That the world would be okay again.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate, extended ending:  
> Thomas sat on the log by the fire, watching the kids play in the surf. It’d been years, but he never forgot that feeling from that day in the Scorch, when his best friend and a small infant gave him matching smiles, and everything felt right. He clutched the necklace he always kept with him, the necklace containing worn pages with slanted scrawl in fading ink. He turned his eyes up to the sky, smiling sadly. “It’s good that you’re up there, Newt. Chuck could use a babysitter.”  
> \---  
> Thanks to Faia for the fic title and Kath for the tags about Thomas and his thinking blob (also the alternate title)! This was supposed to be 5k but man I was gassing out at the end. Hope it still measures up! (now I can get back to the angst everyone is anxiously awaiting...)


End file.
